


The Same Deep Water As You

by tender_is_the_ghost



Category: Rick Grimes - Fandom, The Walking Dead (TV), daryl dixon - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Drama, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Learning to Swim, No Smut, Rickyl, Walkers (Walking Dead), daryck, puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2457299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running into Walkers while out in the woods reveals a secret from Rick's past that he thought he was never going to have to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Same Deep Water As You

 

 

“Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?” Rick asks, his calm, measured tone carrying just a hint of something else.

“Hell yeah, it’s necessary,” scoffs Daryl, shoving Rick forward. “You almost got the pair of us dead the other day. Enough’s enough. This is way past due. Now move your damn ass.”

Rick grunts under his breath in protest but keeps moving forward anyway, secretly pleased at the way Daryl is becoming more assertive in his presence, not just letting Rick lead him anymore but sharing that role with him. Since they’ve been at the prison, Rick’s noticed a different side to Daryl, something he had always suspected was under the surface of that brash exterior but now it was starting to creep out like a tentative deer in the early morning light. Rick knew he would do anything in his power to nurture those feelings in Daryl, wanting desperately to see the man he thought of as his brother, unlock his potential even if that meant Rick had to endure small humiliations such as the one that had caused today’s trek into the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks before they had taken the car out on a run, Daryl having gotten it into his head that he knew a stretch of river nearby where they could try their hand at fishing. Not really sure what had possessed him to volunteer to tag along, maybe a need to escape the ever-increasing population within the safety of their prison home, Rick had joined Daryl on his trip much to Daryl’s surprise and the two of them had set out from the yard just as dawn was breaking over the trees. The drive was relatively short and they had parked well away from the road before hiking a short distance to the river, neither of them attempting to break the morning’s silence with superfluous small-talk. Rick had enjoyed the stillness of the woods, the glow of the morning sun filtering down through the trees to sparkle and dance before his eyes, the comfortable weight of his pack bumping against his back as he’d walked. When they had arrived at the river’s edge, it had looked idyllic, the perfect setting to spend the day fishing in, even if they caught nothing at all.

That was until he’d swiveled his head around to scan the tree line stretching away to their left and his heart had thudded painfully into his throat at the sight of a fair-sized herd of walkers ambling among the trees, headed in their direction. He knew Daryl had spotted them at the same time, the other man’s hand coming out to rest lightly on Rick’s forearm in a silent instruction, urging him slowly back into the trees behind them. It was too late. A gurgling snarl behind them had told them that their position had already been compromised and, without so much as a glance behind them, they had shot off like greyhounds out of the traps heading up the river along the stony bank, putting a short lead between them and their pursuers. As if the group of ravenous flesh-eaters on their tails hadn’t been enough of an issue for them, fate had then thrown them another curveball by cutting off their escape route with a landslide that had washed out a huge chunk of the riverbank, leaving them only two options – try to climb the treacherous hillside into the trees, something that would have been reckless on a normal day, let alone in their current situation or take to the water and swim for it.

Both men had come to the same conclusion at the same time, Daryl slinging his bow across his shoulders as he’d started to wade out into the fast-moving water, calling to Rick to hurry up over his shoulder. But Rick had frozen in his tracks, skidding to a halt at the water’s edge before throwing a glance back over his shoulder.

“I think we can take them!” he’d yelled, taking up an offensive stance and launching himself at the first knot of walkers, taking them all down with well-aimed blows to their heads from his knife.

He had heard Daryl’s confused cursing behind him and then had seen him in his periphery, crossbow up, as Rick had taken down the next walker in line and the first arrow had whizzed past his head to take out the next.

They’d fought brutally, back to back, never faltering until the last corpse was laying twitching at their feet and only then had Rick allowed himself to breathe, bending at the waist to rest his hands on his knees and catch his breath. Straightening up and wiping a hand through the gore coating the skin of his face, he’d turned to Daryl, a triumphant grin pulling at the corners of his mouth only to have it freeze on his face as he’d taken in the sight of his companion, face etched in pain as he slumped to the stony ground, one leg held out awkwardly in front of him. Rick’s heart had plummeted to his stomach before slamming painfully back up into his throat again and he had barely understood the words that came from his mouth, the blood was crashing so loudly in his ears.

“Are you bit?”

“Nah, just turned it is all. One of them gnarly fuckers was built like a brick shithouse. Got a good hold on me for a few seconds and I lost my footing. It’s fine.”

“Can you walk?” Rick had asked, looking back the way they’d come with some trepidation.

“Guess we’ll see.”

Rick had offered him his hand and hauled him to his feet, wincing at the pained grunt that had escaped Daryl’s lips. He’d looped Daryl’s arm across his shoulder and wrapped his arm about his waist, ignoring the muttered protests that came from beside him and, bearing as much of Daryl’s weight as he could, they’d begun the slow trek back through the woods. Luckily, they’d only encountered a few straggling walkers which were easily dispatched and Rick had helped Daryl into the back seat of the car, insisting he keep his foot elevated until they got back to the prison.

“Ain’t never had no damn chauffeur before,” Daryl had ribbed him from the backseat.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it.”

Back at the prison, Rick had relinquished Daryl over to Hershel’s ministrations after helping him up to his bed on the upper landing. He’d stood there, watching anxiously until Hershel had shooed him away and then he’d retreated to his cell, sinking onto the edge of his bed and resting his head in his hands as he’d replayed the morning’s events in his mind. He’d been wallowing deeper into his own guilt when he’d sensed somebody in the doorway and lifted his head to find Carl watching him with a cautious expression on his face, a gurgling Judith balanced expertly on one hip and Rick’s heart had done that trip-hammering thing it did every time he saw his kids together.

“Dad, you okay? I heard Daryl got hurt,” Carl had asked and there it was, the slight hint of accusation underlying his son’s concern as it did so often these days.

“I’m fine, Carl,” he’d said with a soft sigh, “and Daryl will be fine too. Hopefully it’s just a sprained ankle and he didn’t break anything. Hershel’s taking care of him now.”

Carl had given a silent nod, adjusting his grip on his baby sister who was wriggling in his arms and Rick had rubbed a weary hand over his face, his mind still caught up in what had happened.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“You should go take a shower. You kind of stink and I think those are walker brains in your hair.”

With that parting shot, Carl had turned and left, leaving Rick to grimace as he’d reached up a hand, his fingers encountering a sticky mess matting his hair to his scalp. Giving another deep sigh, he’d pushed up from the bunk, his body protesting in a hundred different ways, and grabbed some clean clothes before heading to the showers.

Feeling a little more refreshed and a lot less likely to offend anyone with his odor, Rick had set off to check on Daryl but, as so often happened, he was stopped along his way by one after another of their extended group, each demanding something of his time until before he knew it, it was dinnertime and he still hadn’t made it back to the cell block. Determined to go visit his friend, he had grabbed two of the prison issue food trays from the kitchen and loaded them up, piling an extra helping on Daryl’s before heading into the cell block, studiously avoiding eye contact with anybody else. Breathing a sigh of relief, he had found the space silent and empty, everyone else outside enjoying the warm summer evening, and had made his way up the stairs carefully balancing the two trays and briefly wishing for the old days when their group had been much smaller and there were less people putting demands on his time.

Cresting the top of the metal staircase, he’d found Daryl, eyes closed, propped up with his back against the concrete wall, his injured leg resting on a pile of folded blankets, a pristine white bandage wrapped tightly around his ankle and down to his toes. With  a single glance, Rick had taken in the fresh clothes Daryl was dressed in, his still-damp hair and the scrubbed pinkness of his face and he’d smothered a smile, knowing that this could have only been Carol’s handiwork. He’d made sure to keep his expression neutral as Daryl had cracked open first one eye and then the other, narrowing them to scowl at him.

“Thought y’all were gonna let me starve,” he’d grumbled, taking the tray that Rick had handed him before he’d slid down the wall to sit beside Daryl.

“So?” Rick had asked, waving his fork in the general direction of Daryl’s foot.

“It ain’t broke,” Daryl replied, wiggling his toes a little as if to prove his point.“Hershel said it’s just a bad sprain, wants me to stay off it for a few days.”

“You should,” Rick had told him and relief had settled over him like a warm blanket.

“Can’t do that, man, too much to do,” Daryl had snorted between shoveling forkfuls of mashed potato into his mouth. “’sides, I’ll go crazy if I’m in here for too long and you need me out there.”

“What I need,” Rick had informed him in a tone that brooked no argument, “is for my strongest player to stay on the bench until he’s 100% again. I can’t risk you doing any more damage and making it worse. Take the time and let it heal. I think we can keep things going around here until you’re up and about again. And I’ll bring Judith up to keep you occupied so there’ll be no chance of you going crazy!”

Daryl had narrowed his eyes at Rick once more and given another derisive snort but he hadn’t pressed the issue any further.

They’d finished dinner in a companionable silence, small-talk never having been their thing but, as they ate, Rick started to feel his conscience prickling at the edges of his mind. When Daryl had finished his meal, licking his fingers and wiping them on his clean shirt before letting rip with a satisfied belch, Rick had slid his tray to the floor and rubbed his palms nervously on his thighs.

“I’m sorry,” he’d said quietly, turning to meet Daryl’s eyes.

“For what?”

“For not following you into the river, for taking on more than we could handle, for getting you hurt.”

“Pfft,” Daryl hisses, “it weren’t nothin’ we couldn’t handle. We’re here ain’t we? Me getting hurt was just dumb luck is all, nothing to beat yourself up about. You made a decision and it worked out, end of story.”

Rick had nodded, dropping his gaze to fiddle with a loose thread along the seam of his well-worn pants, wondering for the millionth time just how he’d gotten so lucky to find such an unlikely ally as Daryl in this fucked up world, someone he could trust his life, his family’s lives to, without a moment’s hesitation.

“I can’t swim,” Rick had muttered, his voice barely audible in the oppressive silence of the cell block, his head bowed to his chest.

“What? You’re kidding me.”

Rick could hear the disbelief in Daryl’s voice and he’d felt the heat of shame and embarrassment creeping up from his neck to blaze on his cheeks.

“I never learned,” he’d shrugged, not looking in Daryl’s direction.

“Why?” Daryl had asked softly and Rick had exhaled at the sound of genuine curiosity in his voice, relieved not to hear the usual mocking that normally followed that particular confession.

“The short version?” he’d asked and Daryl had shrugged in an ‘it’s up to you’ gesture.“When I was a kid, my mom was one of those nervous mother types, wanted to wrap me up in cotton wool and hide me away from the big bad world so I missed out on a lot of the usual things kids get to do. My Dad would pretty much override her at every turn but when I was about 5 or maybe 6, a kid in our town drowned in a neighbor’s pool and my mom just lost it. For some reason it really got under her skin, she vowed I was never going to set foot in a body of water again, hell I wasn’t even allowed to take baths any more, only showers.

And no matter how hard my Dad argued with and pleaded with her, telling her she was being unreasonable and paranoid, that is was more dangerous for me not to know how to swim, she wouldn’t back down and it was the one thing he didn’t dare cross her on. It was like the only thing she could have complete control over, I guess, some tangible danger that she could protect me from.

So, I wasn’t allowed near any of the houses that had pools, I never went to the lake or fishing with my Dad.”

Rick had fallen silent, lost in his memories, reliving his childhood in a series of disjointed images and feelings.

“That must have been rough.”

“I was a kid, I didn’t know any different at first and, by the time I was old enough to realize what I was missing out on, she had a whole new line of offence, telling me I was too old to learn, that people would laugh at me if I tried. It didn’t really bother me until I was in my teens, when everybody would drive out to the lake on the weekends and I always had to make an excuse not to go.

That was until Shane came along and decided he needed to be my friend. He used to insist I went along with them even though he was the only person who knew my secret. I’d sit up on the rocks all day and just watch the rest of them and, if anybody messed with me then Shane messed with them. But I still never learned to swim. Shane tried to teach me a few times but it was a disaster so he gave it up as a bad job.”

“What about Carl, you didn’t want to learn for him?”

“I was going to, told myself I had to, but it just never happened. When he was a baby, I always thought there’d be time but next thing I knew, he was all grown up and Lori was the one taking him to the pool and spending days with him at the lake while I was at work. And now, here we are.”

Anything else he might have added was interrupted by the sound of footsteps entering the cavernous space signaling the arrival of the rest of their group, heading to their cells for the night. Rick had pushed up off of the floor, stretching his back before bending to scoop up his and Daryl’s trays before heading down the stairs.

“Rick,” Daryl had said softly behind him causing him to pause and turn back, “you made the right decision, man. The river would have killed you quicker than any walker, trust me.”

With a nod of his head in acknowledgement of Daryl’s words, knowing his friend wasn’t just bullshitting him to make him feel better but was stating the truth, Rick had thrown one last glance at the bandage on Daryl’s ankle and then left, his guilt still simmering under the surface.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, here they were, three weeks later, the early morning breeze rippling gooseflesh across the bare skin of Rick’s torso and legs as he stands hesitantly at the edge of the quarry’s blue-green water, the sun glinting off its surface. Daryl nudges him again and Rick takes a tentative step into the water, surprised to find it’s not quite as cold as he’d imagined it would be.

“You sure this is safe?” he asks Daryl, looking warily around the high rock walls surrounding them.

“Its fine,” Daryl reassures him. “We bolted the gate behind us so we’re walker-free and, if the fence is broken anywhere up top and any of them have stumbled over the cliff at any point, well, the water is clear enough that we’ll see them before they’re a problem.You have nothing to worry about, I’ll be in the same deep water as you.”

“Well thanks for that image, I hadn’t even thought about them lurking on the bottom,” Rick replies, peering nervously at the water stretching serenely away in front of him.

“Look, if you don’t want to do this, just say so but let me ask you somethin’ – what’s going to happen if, God forbid, you’re on the run with Judith and your only escape is to swim for it? What will you do then, huh?”

Rick feels the familiar tightening in his chest that comes with every thought he’s ever had about his children being hurt and he knows Daryl is right. The world they’re living in can change in a heartbeat and it’s time to swallow his pride and face up to his responsibilities. Taking a deep breath, he wades determinedly into the cool caress of the water until he’s standing waist deep, his toes curling into the rocky bottom beneath him. Daryl is right by his side, the cut-off jeans he’s wearing coupled with his shaggy hair reminding Rick of an overgrown Huck Finn although he doesn’t think that Huck ever went swimming with such a lethal looking knife strapped to his thigh.

They spend the next few hours in the water, Daryl patiently guiding Rick through the basics, supporting him when he needs it and demonstrating how to coordinate his limbs as Rick finds his rhythm, never once rushing him to do something he’s not ready for and making Rick feel safe at every step. Taking a break for lunch, they warm themselves on the sun-drenched rocks and Rick feels something akin to peace filling him as he leans back and lets the sun’s rays revive his body and his soul. By the end of the afternoon, he thinks he has it, confidently striking out on his own to make strong laps across the water’s length, Daryl never too far behind.

Finally Daryl tells him he’s done, there’s nothing more he can teach him that won’t come with experience and they dry off before changing back into their clothes, Rick feeling a pang of remorse at all the years he’s missed by not doing this sooner, never realizing how easy it would be and how much he’s enjoyed it.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, clamping a hand on Daryl’s shoulder.

“C’mon,” Daryl says, accepting Rick’s gratitude with a slight inclination of his head,“let’s get home before it starts getting dark.”

Rick checks the sky as he follows Daryl out of the quarry, securing the gate behind them once more, knowing that they have at least a couple of hours of daylight left, just enough time to get back to the car and then drive to the prison. They make their way along the dirt track they came in by, the main road to the quarry having been blocked by fallen trees when they had attempted to drive in earlier, forcing them to make their way on foot instead. As they walk, Rick’s eyes come to rest on Daryl’s back, the dark ink of his tattoo peeking out from the edge of his sleeveless shirt where his pack is pulling it aside. Rick’s often wondered about the meaning behind the demons etched into Daryl’s skin, his curiosity piqued equally by the wicked-looking scars that bisect the skin of his back, but he’s never asked and, unless Daryl offers up the story himself, Rick never will.

Unexpectedly, Daryl stops dead in his tracks and Rick’s hand flies to his Colt, eyes narrowing as he scans their surroundings but there doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger so he steps up beside Daryl to see what’s going on. Without a word, Daryl points to a spot ahead of them on the path and Rick has to blink a few times to make sure what he’s seeing is really there. To his surprise, sitting in the middle of the overgrown path, half hidden in the bushes, staring back at them is a chubby black and tan puppy, its short fur matted with mud and what looks like dried blood. Daryl drops to one knee, fingers outstretched and, without fear or hesitation, the puppy is up on its stubby little legs and racing towards him, its whole rear end wagging furiously from side to side.

“Daryl,” Rick cautions, keeping his tone low but it’s too late as he’s already scooped the wriggling ball of fur up into his arms and stood up with it licking at his face. ”It might be sick.”

“Nah, he’s not sick,” Daryl answers, holding the squirming creature at arm’s length as it yips happily and tries playfully to bite at his fingers. “Hungry, for sure but not sick.”

“Well, I’m sure his momma is around here someplace, just waiting for him, so maybe you better let him go.”

“I don’t think so,” answers Daryl and there’s a look on his face that Rick’s never seen before, a look of need and want. “If she was still here, she wouldn’t have let this little guy get out of her sight and judging from the blood on him, I’d say he’s had a narrow escape. It’s not his.”

“So, in that case then, he can obviously take care of himself so taking him from what he knows wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

Rick watches as Daryl pulls the puppy back in against his chest, his arms tightening protectively around it as he scowls slightly at Rick over its head.

“We can’t just leave him here to get eaten or starve,” Daryl states emphatically.

“Daryl, we can’t take him with us, we barely have enough food for us, let alone feeding a dog.”

“Then I’ll share mine with him but I ain’t leavin’ him alone out here,” Daryl counters and suddenly Rick feels like he’s in the middle of a conversation with Carl.

“Fine,” he says, throwing up his hands in defeat, “but it’s your responsibility.”

Daryl smirks at him over the puppy and Rick just shakes his head as they set off through the woods again. As they walk, he watches Daryl fussing over the puppy in his arms, wondering what happened to the laconic hunter he was used to spending his days with. Although he doesn’t really hold out much hope for the pup’s survival in their world, he allows himself to muse on what it would be like for Judith and Carl to have a pet around. With one eye open for danger as always, he indulges his mind in a little fantasy of watching Judith, just a bit older than she is now, playing happily with the bouncing dog, clapping her tiny hands together as he and Carl look on and laugh. With a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, he loses himself in his fantasy as they trek though the deep woods until he finally shakes his head and takes proper stock of their surroundings, realizing they should have made it to the car by now.

“Daryl?” he asks, a sliver of concern tickling at the base of his spine.

“Hmm?” replies Daryl, extracting his fingers from the puppy’s mouth to look in Rick’s direction.

“Where are we?”

Rick stops walking and Daryl joins him, the color draining from his face as he looks about them.

“I-umm, I…” he stammers and Rick sees a red flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Daryl, are we lost?” he demands, leaning into Daryl’s personal space to look him in the eye.

“I don’t know, man, I was following you!” states Daryl raising his chin defiantly.

“You were… I was following you,” Rick splutters, raising his hand to his face to pinch at the bridge of his nose while Daryl stares at his feet, scuffing his boot against the dirt. “Okay, let’s figure out where we are.”

Rick slips off his pack and pulls out his map along with his compass, tracing the lines silently with his finger. Checking his watch, he swallows thickly when he sees that they’ve been walking for almost an hour in the wrong direction.

“We won’t make it back to the car before we lose the light,” he informs Daryl, mentally cursing himself for letting his mind drift instead of focusing on the task at hand. “I don’t want to risk driving back to the prison in the dark. There’s a housing development up ahead about thirty minutes away, I say we hole up there for the night, go back in the morning.”

Daryl nods his assent, chewing on his bottom lip and Rick knows he’s blaming himself for getting them into this situation.

The sun is on its last few rays when they approach the cluster of once neatly-tended cookie-cutter houses, overgrown now that Mother Nature is taking back her world. They spot a couple of walkers at the other end of the street but they’re disappearing in the opposite direction and the rest of the place looks pretty quiet. Ignoring the first house in line which has fallen victim to a fire at some point, Rick heads for the next one along, only to have Daryl nudge his arm and steer him across the street. Confused for a second as to why this house is any different than the other, Rick follows him, understanding dawning on him when he catches sight of the dog kennel in the side yard. The front door is unlocked and they enter cautiously, quickly making sure the small house is walker-free and then closing and barricading both the front and back doors before closing all the downstairs curtains.

Using flashlights, a quick perusal of the kitchen cupboards reveals nothing more than a box of stale cereal but they do find a stash of candles which they light and take into the living room. Out of habit Rick tries the taps over the kitchen sink and is rewarded with a deep gurgle from the pipes followed by a steady stream of cloudy-looking water, the remnants from the boiler he assumes. It’s not fit to drink and they have no means to boil it, so he turns it back off. They both have food and water in their packs so it’s not like they needed it anyway. He moves into the living room, taking up residence on the sofa, sighing a little as he sinks into its soft cushions, wishing it was maybe just a fraction longer as his feet are up on the armrest. He tilts his head back towards the kitchen, wondering why Daryl hasn’t followed him out and hears the tap being turned on again followed by the soft reassuring murmur of Daryl’s voice. Tipping his head back further, Rick can see Daryl standing at the sink, the puppy on the counter beside him as he soaks a tea towel under the running water and sponges at the animal’s matted fur. Rick shakes his head, relaxing back down on the sofa and closing his eyes as he thinks about his family at the prison, hoping nobody will be too worried about them, suddenly missing his cellphone even though he’d hated the damn thing before everything went to shit.

With the puppy bathed and fed from the supply of dog food Daryl found in the pantry, they join Rick in the living room, Daryl slumping into the leather recliner in front of the darkened tv and flipping the base up to rest his legs on. Within minutes the puppy is gently snoring on his lap, Daryl’s hand wrapped protectively around its tiny rump and he looks up to catch sight of Rick staring in his direction, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“It’s my fault,” he says quietly, averting his gaze from Rick’s. “I wasn’t paying attention, it was stupid. I’m sorry you don’t get to go home tonight.”

“Hey, don’t even worry about it,” Rick replies reassuringly and he means it. “We all have lapses and this wasn’t the worst. We’re okay, we have shelter for the night and we’ll be home again by lunch tomorrow. How about we call this even for the whole river thing and let it go, huh?”

Daryl gives him a nod but there’s still a frown cutting lines on his forehead and Rick knows it will take more than his words to convince his friend that he’s not blaming him for their current situation. With a grunt, Rick rolls off of the sofa, taking his flashlight and heading into the dining room adjacent to the living room, making a beeline for the small liquor cabinet he had spotted in the corner earlier. He doesn’t really expect to find anything inside but he thinks that, if there is, maybe a drink or two would loosen Daryl up a little and let him see that Rick isn’t overly concerned about their impromptu overnight pit-stop. To his surprise the cabinet is locked which builds his hope enough to use his knife to quietly force it open. The hinged door opens down to provide a serving surface and to his delight, Rick finds a small collection of bottles inside including an expensive Scotch tucked away behind its less potent peers. Smiling broadly, he pulls the bottle from its hiding place and snags two cut-glass tumblers from the shelf inside the cabinet.

Back in the living room, he puts his find on the coffee table between him and Daryl, lowering himself back into his seat as he unscrews the cap from the bottle and takes a moment to inhale its scent, his mouth watering at the remembered aroma. He pours two generous glasses full and lifts one to hand it to Daryl, only then glancing at his companion’s face and finding his expression unreadable, his eyes hooded as he looks at the glass in Rick’s fingers. Rick holds his breath, realizing that he’s just made a huge mistake, knowing that there was a history of substance abuse and alcoholism in Daryl’s past, both his own and his family’s and now here Rick is, offering him what must essentially be a glass full of painful memories. He’s about to withdraw his hand, mind racing to find the words to form an apology, when Daryl leans forward, taking care not to disturb the pup on his lap and plucks the glass from Rick’s fingers. Rick exhales softly, a smile quirking up his lips again as Daryl raises his glass in a small salute and then knocks back half of the amber liquid in a single gulp with a toss of his head. Rick follows suit, feeling the burn of the alcohol warming his insides as it slides smoothly down his throat.

“Damn,” he croaks, feeling his eyes tearing up a little at the corners and Daryl snorts in response, holding out his glass for a refill.

After an indeterminate number of shots later, Rick is feeling happily numb. Convinced that he’s not so drunk that he wouldn’t still be able to meet danger head on but just drunk enough that his body is bathed in a heavy, sleepy warmth that is permeating all his limbs. He reaches out an arm to place his empty glass on the table and misses completely, hearing it ‘thunk’ hollowly to the rug but not caring enough to rescue it, reasoning that there’s no more Scotch left in the bottle anyway. He leans his head back against the soft cushions of the sofa, thinking he should probably get some sleep, when Daryl’s voice cuts through the silence making Rick jump.

“Do you know how I learned to swim?” Daryl asks, only the slightest slur in his words and Ricks rolls his head on the cushion to see him staring into the bottom of his empty glass.

“Don’t tell me, let me guess. Merle rowed you out to the middle of a lake and threw you in?”Rick answers, feeling the familiar stab of anger twisting his gut that occurs anytime he dwells on the way Merle treated his baby brother.

“Well, yeah, but that was later,” Daryl tells him with a humorless laugh, his voice betraying no emotion. “It was actually my Mom, when I was barely able to walk. I guess she’d seen the way my old man had taught Merle and something in her wanted to save me from the same fate, I dunno. So, she’d sneak out with me when the weather was warm enough and he was too liquored up to give a shit about where she was. She’d take me down to the creek in back of our house and she’d spend hours with me in the water. I think it was the only normal thing we ever did together when I was a young’un.”

He falls silent and Rick takes a moment to digest this new tidbit of information about his friend’s past.

“She was a completely different person once she was in the water, it used to amaze me. Watching her transform from a beaten husk of a woman into this beautiful, agile creature that would have given any professional swimmer a run for their money, let me tell you. It was the only time I ever heard her laugh in my life. But, when Merle and my old man finally decided I was old enough to go fishing with them, she stopped taking me and spent her summer afternoons in front of the tv with a bottle of wine instead.

The day my Dad had Merle toss me over the side, I don’t know which one of them was more surprised when I took a lap around the boat like I’d been born in the water. My Dad must’ve known it was my Mom, I guess, ‘cos he laid into her pretty good that night when we got home.”

Rick swallows thickly past the lump in his throat, unable to speak, all at once grateful for his over-protective mother and her mission to keep him safe from the world at all costs. To his surprise, he finds that he’s thankful in a weird way for the terrible disaster that’s befallen them because, without it, he would never have had the opportunity to be friends with the man beside him, to get to see him flourish, to count him as his family, his brother. He clears his throat, raising his head to turn and tell Daryl that it doesn’t matter anymore, his past is no longer who he is and doesn’t shape who he’s destined to be, that Rick values him as much as if the same blood flows in their veins but all his words fall silent as he realizes Daryl’s head has dropped forward onto his chest and there’s a small, even snore emanating from his direction. With a sigh, Rick lays back down, throwing an arm up under his head and promising himself that he’ll tell Daryl in the morning.

He regains consciousness with an oppressive weight pressing on his chest and he opens a bleary eye to find a pair of damp brown ones looking directly back at him. Unable to contain its excitement at the fact that he’s awake, the puppy pushes its fuzzy snout forward and starts licking his face. With a concentrated effort from his hungover limbs, Rick manages to get it at arm’s length, holding its wiggling body still as he sits up. The room gives an involuntary lurch and he gives a small groan as he glances over in Daryl’s direction, finding his friend still asleep, a thin line of drool slicking his chin but with a peacefulness etched on his face that Rick rarely sees. The puppy in his hands gives a small whine and Rick lifts it up to eye level to stare at it intently for a minute, another thought forming in his mind, one that involves the younger Dixon brother never having had a pet in his life and suddenly things become a lot clearer.

“You break his heart and you and I are going to have a serious discussion,” he whispers sternly to the puppy before setting it down again and ruffling its ears.

It gives a slightly louder yip and Rick sees Daryl stir in his chair, one hand coming up to scrub at his chin as the puppy launches itself across the gap between them and throws itself on Daryl, tail helicoptering furiously.

“Mornin’,” grins Rick, watching as Daryl tries and fails to fight off his exuberant new playmate.

“Uhh,” grunts Daryl and Rick smirks even more.

After a quick breakfast of dry cereal, they pull their stuff together, giving the house a last once over for anything they might have missed and then set out on their walk back to where they left the car the previous day. Rick notes that Daryl’s pack clanks as he walks and he knows that he’s carrying as many of the cans of dog food as he can. He’s also managed to find a collar that almost fits and one of those extendable leads and now their furry companion is trotting happily along at Daryl’s feet, stopping every few yards to investigate some new and interesting smell until Daryl tugs on the leash and clicks his tongue at him. The whole scenario is so bizarrely surreal and normal at the same time that Rick can barely keep the smile off of his face.

“You know,” he says, when they finally reach the car and he’s watching Daryl carefully pull his folded poncho from his bag and fashion it into a makeshift bed for the puppy on the back seat, “he’s going to need a name if he’s going to be living with us.”

“Already got one,” answers Daryl, instructing the puppy to stay put and closing the door.

Rick looks at him expectantly over the roof of the car, pulling open the driver’s door.

“Gonna call him Li’l Rick,” Daryl tells him and climbs into the car.

“Excuse me?” Rick asks, getting in behind the wheel and looking to Daryl for an explanation.

“What?” Daryl replies, straight-faced.

“You are not calling him Li’l Rick.”

“Why not? I think it suits him. Think about it – he woke up all alone, didn’t have a clue what was happening to him, had to survive on his own against the odds and then found a whole new family to take care of him.”

“No,” states Rick simply, starting the car and setting them in motion. “Not happening.”

They drive in silence for a while, Daryl staring out of the passenger window, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Li’l Michonne?” he asks hopefully.

“Brother, you are on your own with that one,” laughs Rick, reaching out to clap Daryl on the shoulder with a shake of his head and, to his delight, Daryl returns his laugh with a wide smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty-four hours later and everybody’s relief at having the pair of them home safe and sound has been completely overshadowed by the newest member to their dysfunctional family, practically everyone in their group coming by to greet the puppy. With his arm wrapped firmly around Carl’s shoulders, marveling as always at how tall his son is getting, Rick watches Daryl spread a thick blanket on the sun-warmed concrete in the yard and sit down with the puppy held firmly on his lap. Carefully Carol kneels opposite him, her arms loaded with Judith’s small body, the baby’s chubby fingers reaching out immediately as she spots the ball of fur in Daryl’s hands. The puppy wriggles at the sight of this new playmate and Rick holds his breath as both parties set their respective charges on the floor and the puppy dashes over to snuffle Judith’s face, its tiny pink tongue chasing all over her cheeks and forehead as she giggles and tries to get a grip on its floppy ears, making Carol throw back her head with a tinkling laugh that echoes around the yard. Unable to stop the wide grin spreading across his face, Rick looks at Daryl, seeing that half-smile on Daryl’s lips that warms Rick’s heart and he wonders how he could have ever thought about leaving their new family member behind in the woods, knowing he wouldn’t trade his family’s smiles for anything in the world. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the Cure song of the same name... the lyrics didn't fit but the title seemed to.


End file.
